


Dragon's Den

by MarieAnne



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Brandon Stark Lives, Casterly Rock, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Elia Martell and Rhaegar Targaryen Never Married, F/M, Game of Thrones - Freeform, Harrenhal, House Baratheon, House Martell, House Stark, House Targaryen, House Tully, Inspired by A Song of Ice and Fire, Kingslanding, Love Triangles, Lyanna Stark Bashing, M/M, Minor Brandon Stark/Catelyn Tully Stark, Minor Robert Baratheon/Lyanna Stark, Oberyn Martell Flirts, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Pre - Robert's Rebellion, Protective Ned Stark, Rhaegar Targaryen Being an Asshole, Rhaegar Targaryen Being an Idiot, Rhaegar x OC, Riverrun, Sibling Incest, Storms End, The Reach - Freeform, Tourney at Harrenhal, Winterfell, i love rhaegar, i will forever be rhaegar's whore :P, lovestory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:40:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26516866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarieAnne/pseuds/MarieAnne
Summary: The new and improved story of a bastard and a Prince, and everyone in between. A love story following Rickard Stark's bastard as she is finally allowed from her home and finds herself falling in love with every man she lays her eyes on. Except for one thing ... she has not one intention of marrying any of them. **Image does not belong to me****All AU**The story will differ greatly from both Lust & Fire and Emancipation series.
Relationships: Aerys II Targaryen/Rhaella Targaryen, Arthur Dayne/Elia Martell, Ashara Dayne/Ned Stark, Brandon Stark/Catelyn Tully Stark, Brandon Stark/Original Female Character(s), Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Cersei Lannister/Rhaegar Targaryen, Hoster Tully/Minisa Whent, Joanna Lannister/Tywin Lannister, Lyarra Stark/Rickard Stark, Lysa Tully Arryn/Petyr Baelish, Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand, Oberyn Martell/Original Female Character(s), Oberyn Martell/Original Male Character(s), Original House Stark Character(s)/Original House Tyrell Character(s), Rhaegar Targaryen/Original Female Character(s), Robert Baratheon/Lyanna Stark, Robert Baratheon/Original Female Character(s), Shella Whent/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

**264 AC**

**A Dragon Arrives**

Lyarra Stark was never known for a tender heart, especially to those who had threatened her family.

She was currently stood in the courtyard of Winterfell, her milkmaids and two children next to her, wearing a new light grey dress. In true Northern weather fashion, it had been raining the day before. She was used to it by now, but the chilly morning air still sent a shiver through her body.

Brandon, her eldest and heir to Winterfell, who had just passed his second name day, was holding tightly to his milkmaid's dress. He had recently perfected the skill of walking but the young child was weary of the muddy floor beneath him. Eddard, or Ned as he was known by his family, was just a year younger than Brandon and was cooing from his milkmaid's hands, reaching out to grab a strand of hair that the maid hadn't brushed back.

They were waiting for Rickard's return from Kingslanding, of which he had been gone an entire year. Leaving when Ned was born and returning just shy of his name day. She sighed once more, excited to hear of what her husband had experienced at Kingslanding. From his letters throughout the year, she gauged something was keeping him, the Queen most likely. He was only supposed to leave for two moons but, a Queen's orders were her orders Lyarra guessed. She wanted to be there with him, experiencing the lively court of the South but had to stay in Winterfell as Ned and Brandon were still young and she had a household to run. As Rickard made sure of reminding her, _there always had to be a Stark in Winterfell._

Lyarra placed her hands in front of her, _honestly how long does it take to get here_? She thought to herself. The entire household had come to a standstill waiting for their lords' return. Lord Rickard Stark, the Warden of the North and the holder of the Stark ancestral home Winterfell.

He and Lyarra were distantly related. She was the youngest daughter of Arya Flint and Rodrik Stark also known as the Wandering Wolf, for his employment under the second sons. Rodrik's father and Lyarra's grandfather was Beron Stark, who happened to be the father of William Stark. William Stark then went onto marry Melantha Blackwood and Lyanna Glover. Of his first marriage, he fathered two children, Jocelyn and Edwyle Stark. Edwyle, the previous Lord of Winterfell, married Marna Locke, who gave birth to Rickard Stark. Thus Beron Stark was the grandfather of Lyarra and great-grandfather of Rickard, making them first cousins once removed.

It confused Lyarra as well.

 _Finally,_ she smiled, watching as her husband trotted through the castle gates. He was wearing a large coat, with red fox fur at its top, and had sported a new beard that Lyarra thought made him all the more handsome. He jumped from his horse, handing the reins to a stable boy and walked over to his wife and children. "Children," Rickard smiled, bending down to kiss Brandon who squealed and hugged him back. "Little Ned," he moved the dark-haired child's thumb from his mouth to get a better look at him.

"Hello," Lyarra smiled, hugging him tightly. "How did Kingslanding fare?" Rickard nodded, unsure of how he'd present the idea to Lyarra. Lyarra furrowed her brow, knowing all too well her husband's mannerisms by now. He was hiding something. "Well?"

"Come child."

_Child?_

Lyarra peeked behind his shoulder, it wasn't a child but rather a maid holding one. A tanned girl with kinky hair moved from behind a crowd and shuffled towards Rickard.

_By the old gods, what has this man brought into my household?_

Rickard took the child from the maid and presented her to Lyarra. She looked as if she hadn't passed her first name day and was skinny for a babe. She had wispy and matted hair that stuck to her unwashed face. Lyarra felt her face contort but quickly corrected it, knowing that the castle's inhabitants would cling onto every word they had said from here on out.

"She is my bastard, from Kingslanding," Rickard boldly said, waiting for Lyarra's response.

_Bastard._

Lyarra felt like taking the babe from his hands and hurling her over the castle walls.

"Rickard Stark," she began, all the anger in the world centring at her chest, "you will explain this properly and you will explain it properly now." Lyarra did not recall becoming an orphanage, how dare he bring a bastard back to her.

Rather than respond to her, Rickard returned the little girl to her maid. "Come, we cannot discuss it here." He took Lyarra's hand and led her to the Great Hall, where many feasts had and would be held for years to come. Behind them there was the scuffle of workers moving about their day, he heard Brandon's little voice squealing in excitement as he was picked up by Lord Manderly.

She jolted her hand back once they had entered the semi-private area. "Is this why you took so long to return? Waiting for your _whore_ to give birth so you could bring a bastard child into our home."

"Lyarra please, lower your voice," Rickard said as his wife began to ramble incoherently.

" _Lower_ my voice? My voice!? This is a child _you_ fathered Rickard!" Lyarra pushed him with both her hands. Now her anger was directed towards him. Oh, how she wanted to slap him silly until that ridiculous beard was falling from his face!

The push didn't send him far, Rickard was large and had a big chest and compared to Lyarra's small frame he looked like a giant. "Lyarra, you will stop it this instant. She is to grow up here along with her siblings and that is final."

"What," Lyarra pushed him again, "was the whore an exotic one?" She was hitting him now. "Did she have purple eyes that captured you?" Lyarra couldn't control herself anymore, feeling her face grow hot as Rickard held her hands back. "Did she seduce you, Rickard!? Did she show you something I could not offer? A great beauty perhaps, one that you and your men placed a bet over." Her mind was running circles around her. "A bastard," Lyarra freed herself from his grip. "A bastard in my home! _Me_ the wife of the Warden of the North."

"Lyarra!" he felt his voice boom, scaring his wife into silence. "Her mother is _dead._ It was a drunken night and I regret it, I will for the rest of my life. I know it is something that is hard to forgive but, I am truly sorry," Rickard sighed, nearing her.

Lyarra held her index finger out to him, "Rickard," her face was wet with her tears and her hair had since fallen from the two strands updo she had braided it into, "Rickard what am I supposed to tell people who ask questions? We are who they look to for example."

"We will tell them the truth," Rickard replied, taking her hand gently in his. "It is uncomfortable, but it must be done."

"Why can't we put her in an orphanage Rickard?" Lyarra pleaded, her blue eyes looking up at his own grey ones.

"I will have no more questions about it Lyarra. She is my child and she will stay."

Lyarra swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. "What is her name?"

"Ellena, Ellena Snow."

 _A hideous name for a hideous child,_ Lyarra thought to herself. "I will never love her." Lyarra played with Rickard's hair as she wrapped her hand around her neck. He was after all her husband and she had missed him greatly, even if he had succumbed to a whore's antiques. Well, at least she was dead now.

Rickard placed his head on her chest, wrapping his arms around her waist. "You will treat her with respect."

_Never._

Lyarra wouldn't say that to him though, she was after all his daughter and Rickard would love her as a father loved a daughter.

...


	2. Chapter 2

**277 AC**

**Eradication **

_The Lord Denys Darklyn, though he begged for mercy, along with his family and House Darklyn kin living in Duskendale were all beheaded, with no court nor trial, but rather recklessly. House Hollard; Ser Jon, his wife and son were executed together. The only life that was spared was Dontos Hollard who was only granted mercy after Ser Barristan Selmy, the man who had rescued the King himself, had begged for it. The wife of Lord Denys, Lady Serala, had her tongue and womanhood torn out, and the King ordered her burned alive. The lands and incomes that once were House Darklyn's were given to House Rykker, while House Hollard's villages were burnt, the castle was torn down and titles were taken away._

Rickard could not believe what he had just heard, his mind refusing to accept sich atrocious commands had come from Aerys, not the same Aerys he had fought alongside with. He was sat in the Great Hall on the high seat of the Kings of the North, clutching onto the arms that were decorated with carvings of snarling direwolves.

"You are sure this is what message comes from Lord Hoster?" Rickard repeated to the aging Maester in front of him. Hoster Tully had been kind enough to inform the Northern lord of what had occurred once the King had been rescued from Lord Darklyn's hold, just one of the advantages of betrothing his eldest to his daughter, Catelyn Tully.

Maester Walys nodded, "yes my lord."

He bit the inside of his cheek, would this see the end of the plans he had worked greatly to set in place? _No_. Brandon would still marry Catelyn Tully, and Lyanna was to wed Robert Baratheon. House Darklyn was foolish, with a foolish Lord and foreign Lady at its helm. Rickard knew time was valuable, and quick temper was no way to express anger.

House Darklyn, had prematurely tried to convince Aerys of providing them with the same luxury given to House Martell of Dorne, the freedom to reign as Princes' within their homeland. Something that could not be done without extensive planning and backing of loyal Houses.

 _Kidnapping the King,_ Rickard huffed, rolling up a scroll in front of him. He was tending to the North's current disputes, farmers not being paid enough, lords wanting to cut taxes on trade, ward offerings and the like.

He rubbed his hand on his forehead, dismissing Maester Walys with a nod as he did so. He was left alone now in the Great Hall, to think properly. Having seen fully the repercussions for outwardly defying the King, as it seemed that he had taken to not listening to Lord Tywin Lannister - his hand. Perhaps it was because many had said it was truly Tywin who held the Seven Kingdoms together, there was a truth to that statement. Tywin was the one to settle debts with the Iron Bank, the one to smooth over territory and tax disputes, he was the one who cared for the Kingdoms. King Aerys, second of his name, was the one to bolster great plans and forget about them within a moon.

"Father, father she bit me!"

"I did not! You're such a babe Ellena."

"Girls!" Rickard shushed, standing from his seat as his two daughters burst through the double doors, waking him from his deep thoughts. Why did the two find it so difficult to go to Old Nan with their issues, he rolled his eyes as they both began petitioning their sides of how their current argument had come to be.

 _Lyarra would have been perfect for this,_ Rickard thought to himself, his ears tuning his daughters' voices out.

His wife had died giving birth to their youngest, Benjen, one and ten years ago. And every day, especially when the children were in desperate need of a mother, Rickard was reminded of her absence. He refused to remarry, as not to introduce any more fights within the family, besides, he was happily content with Old Nan and their Septa as motherly figures to his five.

Rickard held his hand up as Lyanna began to pull at Ellena's hair. "Lyanna," he gave her a disapproving look.

Ellena, who had just turned ten and three, always found a way to upset the younger Stark, who was exceptionally vicious for a girl aged one and ten.

"What happened? And one at a time now." He stepped down from the high table, sitting on a step to get a better view of them both.

"I was pla-playing with-"

"She was _kissing_ Brandon, so I told her to stop! It's _disgusting_ Ellena!" Lyanna exclaimed, her little body bursting with anger as her older sister stuck her tongue out at her.

_Oh, gods._

"And where is Brandon?" Rickard asked them, wanting to know if Lyanna's words had any claim to them.

Brandon, who was visiting his family from his place as a ward in Barrowton, had managed to already make the two fight on his first day. He was five and ten now, and every moon, Rickard received word from Lord Dustin of Brandon's development. He knew that Brandon had always been hot-headed, much different to his brother's and bastard sister but similar to Lyanna. So he was not surprised when Lord Dustin had told him of how Brandon would spend weeks in the Rills or sneaking away with Lady Barbrey Ryswell.

He _was_ surprised when Brandon had asked him to marry the young Ryswell girl, something he couldn't allow to happen, so he refused him.

Lyanna's footsteps retreated from the Great Hall, to fetch her brother of course, and Ellena looked down at her feet in shame. Her dress, which was brown at its edges thanks to the Northern rain, had spots of embroidered flowers.

"Ellena," Rickard said, causing the young girl to squeak and cover her face in embarrassment.

She began to cry and her dark hair fell to her face as she did so. Rickard sighed, moving her hands from her face. "I just wanted to know what it was like it all." Her voice came out shaky, and her words were interrupted by her sniffs and whimpers. So they had kissed, now to see what Brandon had to say for himself.

Rickard stood as Lyanna ran back into the room. She had always opted to wear leather pants and simple tunic whenever Old Nan and their Septa had allowed, or given up in convincing her.

Brandon who was growing exceptionally fast, and tall, and _big,_ walked confidently in behind her. His cheeks were rosy, hair tied behind his head, and right hand was placed on his newly commissioned sword.

"Yes, father?" Brandon asked Rickard, standing in between his sisters. He looked down at Ellena, who was turning red under the gaze of their father. Brandon could not help but grin, sure they had kissed, but he saw no problem in it and was annoyed when Lyanna had caught them.

_Ellena had been sitting on the courtyard floor, watching Lyanna chase Benjen after the boy had something offensive to her. She enjoyed watching them fight. Rickard had made sure that she was included in all their activities, but could do nothing more as Ellena insisted on watching rather than participating herself._

_"Hey!" Ellena cried out, turning to see who had pulled her hair behind her head in such an aggressive manner. "That's not funny Brandon," Ellena huffed, moving her hair from her back to the right side of her shoulder and twirling it._

_He sat down next to her, comfortable on the soft grass beneath him. "Did you miss me?" Brandon asked her, watching as Benjen tripped Lyanna and they disappeared up the steps that led to the castle Keep._

_"I miss Ned," Ellena responded truthfully._ _She had always gotten along better with him, but he had been away for six years now at the Vale. He wrote to her often, telling her what he and the other ward to Lord Jon Arryn, Robert Baratheon got up to in their spare time. Robert was to wed Lyanna when the time came, and judging from Ned's letters, he was similar to Brandon in arrogance and skill. "I missed you too, I guess." Ellena laughed, amused by Brandon's hurt ego. "How is Barrowton?"_

 _Brandon shrugged his shoulders, "boring." They sat in silence, watching as workers of Winterfell went about their days. Some sharpening swords and other's carrying baskets of clothes to be hung and dried. "Come," he stood up, holding his hand out for her to take._ _She looked at him suspiciously, but stood up nonetheless and followed after him as he led them to the godswoods. "Have you ever kissed a boy E?"_

_She pushed Brandon, offended by his statement. "Of course I have!" Ellena lied, crossed her arms over her chest._

_Brandon scoffed, doubting her words. He sat down under the shade of the large weirwood tree. "I kissed a girl," he proudly boasted. "And she has promised me her maidenhood when I return."_

_"Liar."_

_"Barbrey Ryswell," Brandon nodded back to Ellena, his eyes following her as she sat down next to him. "Who did you kiss?"_

_Ellena pursed her lips, unsure of what to respond with. "A stable boy."_

_"What was his name?"_

_"I don't know," she looked away from Brandon._

_Brandon let out a hearty laugh, moving closer to her. "Do you want to kiss me?" She was hesitant. "What? The Targaryen's do it, and they're Kings and Queens." Ellena stayed silent, waiting for Brandon to lead the way. He placed his lips delicately on hers, moving his hands to the back of her head as he did so._

_Ellena pulled away abruptly, Lyanna's voice taking her from her very first kiss. "You're so gross!" Lyanna shouted, nearing the two._ _Brandon rolled his eyes as Ellena stood from the floor to confront Lyanna. The younger girl was quicker, and she pinched Ellena before running back to the courtyard. "I'm telling father!"_

"Did you kiss her Brandon?" Rickard asked. Brandon had grown so tall he almost levelled with Rickard, and it impressed him.

"No," Brandon responded confidently.

The silent hall was awoken with a sharp slap. Rickard had slapped Brandon across his cheek, a bright red mark appearing on his pale face. Brandon looked ahead rather than at his father, his confident mood changing into one of anger and annoyance. His grey eyes refused to lift up and listen to his father as he spoke.

"You are never to do such a thing, do you both understand?" Rickard asked the two, looking at Ellena now. Rickard slapped Ellena next, and she grabbed her cheek in shock, gasping as her father's hand stung her skin. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, father," Ellena responded, clutching onto her cheek as she ran from the room, Brandon followed closely after her, his footsteps growing quieter.

Rickard turned to Lyanna. "And you, are not to spy on anyone, alright?" Rickard told Lyanna, ruffling her hair as he did so.

Lyanna smiled proudly, standing on her tiptoes and holding her hands behind her back. "Understood."

**...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to; lyannathewolf for your supportive comments on the first chapter and I hope you enjoyed this one!!
> 
> I have a crush on Brandon. No one come for me, I will include him everywhere, anyway I can :'(


	3. Chapter 3

** 277 AC **

** Kin **

Lyanna's long hair flowed behind her as she ran from the Great Hall, a smile on her face, "Benjen!" She called for her brother, wanting to resume the games that they had been playing earlier.

"You're such a tell-tale Lya!" Brandon called from the steps that led to the Keep. He was going to his rooms, not wanting to interact with anyone after being humiliated by Lyanna and his father.

Lyanna stuck her tongue out at him and continued running around the castle in search for her younger brother. She finally found him, stood with his arms crossed and kicking the floor as Old Nan seemed to be saying something to him and Ellena. Ellena had her arms intertwined with Old Nan's, leaning on the older woman attentively.

"What are you talking about?" Lyanna asked them, holding her hands to her hips as she awaited an answer.

"Old Nan's telling us about Aemond One-Eye, now shut up," Benjen said to his sister, wanting to get back to the interesting story.

"Also known as Aemond the Kinslayer," Ellena added, her lilac eyes glaring at Lyanna. She did not believe she deserved the punishment she was given; it was a _kiss_ and Lyanna got nothing for spying on others.

Old Nan smiled, tapping her right ear to the three. "Now you see, Prince Aemond was born to King Viserys the first of his name and his second wife, Queen Alicent Hightower-"

"Aren't the Hightower's of Oldtown, in the Reach?" Benjen asked; he knew that the answer was right, having studied the map of Westeros and family linages with Maester Walys. He just wanted to gloat to his sisters.

"That's right," Old Nan said nodding her head, leading the three to a stool and sitting on it. The three sat down on the dusty floor, ignoring the hustle and bustle that those in the castle around them made. "It's all very confusing but all we need to know is that the King had a daughter with his first wife, Rhaenyra, who was to be Queen – even though his second wife gave him two sons, Aegon – his older brother, and himself. He had another older sister, Helaena and a younger brother Daeron. So, as you can imagine, Alicent and Rhaenyra didn't like each other very much, being as women were not to inherit if there were male heir-,"

"That's rubb-,"

"Ah," Old Nan held her hand up to Lyanna, "a lady does not swear." Lyanna huffed, muttering under her breath. "And when he was one and ten, Aemond became the rider of the dragon Vhager, losing his eye when his nephew, Rhaenyra's son, Lucerys, attacked him and stabbed his eye once Aemond insulted him."

"How old was he?" Ellena asked, missing the part where Old Nan had mentioned his age, unable to imagine the pain of having one's eye stabbed out.

"One and ten," the old woman repeated nonchalantly, "back to the story. As Kings do, Viserys the first died, and so despite Rhaenyra being the heir, Aegon took the throne. Staring the war as we know to be the Dance of the Dragons. Eventually, Aemond killed the man who took his eye, his nephew."

"And that is when he became known as the Kinslayer?"

Old Nan nodded, pursing her lips. "Yes."

There was a short silence between them. Lyanna stood to her feet, "is that all Nan?"

"Yes," Old Nan smiled, her tired eyes blinking up at the young girl.

"What was the point of that story?" Lyanna asked, confused as to why Old Nan didn't continue as she had always done. They had once spent the entire day listening to how Aegon the Conquer and his sister-wives Visenya and Rhaenys, had come to Westeros all those years ago.

Old Nan stood from her stool, taking Ellena's hand once more. "The point is, fights with family are bound to end in disaster. So, we should forgive each other and continue on our day," she then took Lyanna's hand. "Won't you apologise now Lyanna?"

Lyanna sighed, looking at her older sister. "Fine," she stared into Ellena's eyes, "I'm sorry spying, and for telling father but-."

"Ah-ah, an apology cannot be followed with a rebuttal my lady," Old Nan jested, flicking both girls' noses. "Do you accept Ellena?"

"Yes. It's alright Lya," Ellena smiled, hugging her sister.

"Gross," Benjen tutted, growing bored by the overly dramatic display of affection. He ran away from them, heading for Brandon's room. He wanted to know all about Barrowton.

...

The Great Hall was alive with chatter and sounds of wooden spoons hitting wooden plates. The household of Winterfell was dining together, as they had done every night, with Rickard and his children sat on the lords' table. Ellena played with the cooked rabbit in front of her, poking at the tender meat. She was not hungry, and the happenings of that day, though Lyanna had apologised, had upset her.

"Don't play with your food," Rickard instructed, his conversation with Brandon halted as he noticed his bastard daughter's childish antics.

"Sorry father," Ellena said, cutting into the rabbit with her knife and taking a small bite out of it. Rickard turned back around to Brandon, making sure to remind him that he was not to anger Lord Dustin and to try and keep from following the actions of William Dustin – as the two had been known to cause trouble from time to time.

Ellena sighed, growing bored of eavesdropping on them. She tried to listen to what Lyanna and Benjen were saying. Benjen who was sat next to his father spoke passionately and Lyanna who was next to Ellena rolled her eyes every few moments. They were speaking about who was to be the best warrior when they grew up. That was also boring her. She put her fork down, growing tired of her food once more, and stared at the double oak doors of the grey room, her eyes blank but her mind running wild with thoughts.

Ellena tried to think of everything but Brandon's kiss. It was an innocent one, and she had only done it because she wanted to know what it was like to kiss someone. She tried to free her mind of those thoughts.

 _Tomorrow, I'll make a new flower for my day dress,_ she said to herself. Imagining the patterns and colours of her next flower.

Rickard, having finished telling his eldest son off for his misbehaviour all around, lecturing him on his quick temper and reminding him of his place, went back to his dinner. It was delicious, as it always had been. Sure, the Northern lords didn't have fruits and spiced wines, nor did they have extravagant pastries as those he had seen at Kingslanding all those years ago – but they had warm and hearty food, and that was enough for Rickard.

He noticed Ellena had stopped eating entirely and followed her gaze to the doors of the Hall. He felt an urge to remind her that she was lucky to have a home that provided her food, as he had done when all his children refused to eat, but ... he had lectured one too many times that day.

 _Lyarra._ Rickard thought to himself, his wife would have had their heads for wasting precious food. Granted it would be given to the dogs or beggar's or boiled down to a broth. He knew all too well though it wouldn't have been a problem with Ellena, she wouldn't even be sitting at the lords' table had Lyarra been alive. Or would she? Before she had died, Lyarra had grown to like her in private. The few times he saw them interact was when he visited the nursery, where Lyarra would be brushing and tying the young girls' wild hair into two, making her look like a newborn doe. But made sure to not even acknowledge the growing girl when Rickard had held a feast for in honour of her pregnancy with Benjen. He wondered if it had anything to do with wanting to keep face with the ladies of the North. Rickard sighed, running his hand through his beard.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Brandon standing from his seat and preparing to leave the table. Before he left, he _subtly_ slipped Ellena a note, something the both of them thought no one would notice. But Rickard noticed he noticed enough to watch her eyes as she read it. Ellena waited for some time after Brandon's departure. After a while, she looked to her left and right before excusing herself and stepping into the gallery.

Brandon would have to return to Barrowton first thing tomorrow morning, and Ellena would be found a match as soon as could be. That or Rickard would hint to her that becoming a Septa would suit her best. He would not have a premature love bug infest his family.

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm loving delving into family dynamics more!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> xx


	4. Chapter 4

**277 AC**

**Hearts Distance**

_Meet me by the godswood._

Ellena watched Brandon leave through the double doors of the Great Hall, his head not turning once, his tall stature fading into the darkness of outside. He had slipped a note on her lap as he left, she reread it, _meet me by the godswood._ Insufferable oaf, a please would have done plenty.

Ellena sat in her silence for a while, looking around the lord's table to ensure no one had noticed the interaction. Rickard was already on to them, as a wolf would be onto the innocent rabbits of the forests, but he would not make a show of it here. When she was sure that it had been long enough since Brandon had left, she excused herself from the table and left through the gallery – so not too look as if she were following after him.

Her light steps skipped from the gallery and the cold Northern air hit her warmed face. It was far too cold to be in the godswood's at this hour without some sort of protection. So, she quickly went to her rooms and took a thick coat made of expensive warm furs and leather. With the coat around her shoulders tightly, Ellena made for the godswood.

She felt her heartbeat, it so loud that she thought her heart would jump from her chest. It was raining lightly, the water fluffing her hair in the slightest, a genetic trait Ellena was sure to have inherited from her unknown mother.

There he was, Brandon stood by the weirwood tree with one arm leaning on the solemn-faced tree. The rain made it seem as if the tree were truly weeping, with red streaks glistening in the dark moonlight. Ellena wondered exactly why Brandon had called her, but she was no fool. Brandon, from what she could remember of his other visits and before he left to ward, always had an ulterior motive for his actions. Even the smallest of ones.

Brandon shifted, moving his palm to the weirwood tree and gently pressing on the tree's trunk as if he were praying. An act they both knew he never partook in.

She tapped his shoulder as she neared him, "Is everything alright? Your note was a little cryptic."

Brandon turned, his cheeks and nose were coloured pink from the cold, "what took you so long?" he asked, rubbing his hands together and stepping from the shade of the tree towards her.

"Are you telling me the wild-wolf cannot take a little cold?" Ellena mocked him. She felt the cold on her own hands and tucked them back into her coat.

"Shut up," Brandon huffed, far too proud to admit that tonight had been especially cold. They stood in silence as Brandon gathered his thoughts, unsure of how to come to her with his proposition. He was never one to become tongue-tied, not that he was, nor was he one to miss an opportunity. Brandon was neither a coward nor loser, that much he knew for sure, so he was not afraid of rejection. No, what did worry him was the prospect of Ellena running to their father with his words – especially after he had slapped them as punishment for a small kiss earlier that day. "Do you ... did you feel _anything_ Ellena? When we kissed?"

She was taken aback by his words, having counted for the flutter in her stomach to just being a part of kissing someone else. Now, she thought Brandon's words might have held some weight. She shrugged, "no," Ellena lied, not wanting Lyanna's words to be the words of others.

_Disgusting. Wrong._

It was wrong and looked down upon by all the faith to harbour feelings for one's own brother. The Targaryen's got away with it because they once had dragons to bring naysayers to their feet. Everyone else had their heads hung high for treason and the crime of incest.

Brandon took her hand into his, "are you sure?"

No wonder the girls of Barrowton and Wintertown alike had fawned over him any chance they got; he had a way with words that made one feel dominated. Or perhaps that was his size.

She looked up at him, with those eyes that set her apart from all of her family. The eyes that had first started whispers of origin from Lys, or Dorne. Rickard was quick to shut them down, telling those who whispered to have some respect for her late mother and for his daughter.

"It's wrong Brandon. We shouldn't even be talking about this."

"So ... you did?" Brandon assumed her by words that she was feeling very similar to him. He didn't have control over who he liked, and nor did she see. If it so happened that they like each other, it was fated to him.

"Brandon," Ellena started, wanting to rid of the knots and churns her stomach was making. This was not at all how she imagined her first kiss, her first affections to go like. She had imagined meeting a Knight, one that was respected and feared. She had stared at her reflection many times after Old Nan had told stories of jousts and tourney's where lovers met, wondering when it would be her turn. "We can't."

"Says who?" Brandon whispered, moving closer to her.

"Says me," Ellena responded, though she did not move as he closed the gap between their bodies.

He smiled, Brandon Stark had always gotten his way, and it would be like that for all his years. He nudged his head closer to hers and pulled her into his own body, warming the both of them. Her lips called him, and he wanted desperately to answer. His grey eyes met her own lilac ones for the second time that day, staring at each other in apprehension and waiting for her to accept his movements.

Ellena, who did not know what came over her, drew Brandon's freshly shaven face closer and his cold nose bumped against hers. Their breaths on each other's now, Brandon let out a deep chuckle, kissing her feverishly.

They had found themselves on the soft floor beneath the weirwood tree, snow falling lightly as night took over day and the moon in the sky rose high. A thought jolted her from her movements. They were committing a sin right there, on the tree that had seen the weddings, baptisms, funerals and knightings of all Stark's before them, and would see those of all Stark's after them. Ellena pushed herself from Brandon's body.

"Good night Brandon," she whispered, leaving him in the darkness once more.

Brandon grinned, touching his lips as he watched her leave. He stood up, brushed his back and practically ran to his rooms. Once he had undressed and gotten into his nightshirt, he lay on his bed. Hand behind his head, Brandon smiled to himself. Sleep overtook him, and his last thought was; _gods, the Targaryen's are lucky._

He woke the next morning to the sounds of Winterfell rising, laying in his bed from some time and not wanting to leave the warm comforts of an heir's room. There was a knock on his door, "who is it?" Brandon called out. He wasn't in the mood for a bath, nor was he in the mood for Benjen to question him on every last detail of his day to day activities as a ward, _again._ There was no audible answer and the door opened, it was Rickard. He closed the door after he had entered, and Brandon sat up in his bed. "Lord father," he said, wondering what called for his presence.

"You are to return to Lord Dustin as soon as you have broken your fast," Rickard said, standing over his bed with his arms crossed over his chest.

Brandon looked up at the tall man, "has he called me back?" His father had his full attention now. Lord Dustin had allowed him to leave for a sennight, so why was he to return so abruptly?

Rickard pursed his lips, "no, I am telling you to go back."

"What for!?" Brandon exclaimed. Of all people, he thought his father would be happy to have him back at Winterfell. He was the _heir_ and the heir was supposed to eventually mirror the current Lord.

"Because," Rickard tapped Brandon's perched knee, "kissing a sister once is innocent. Kissing a sister _twice_ by the sacred weirwood tree is purposeful and a slight on the old gods." Brandon had no response. Had his father seen them the night before? Well, he must have to know what they had been doing. Brandon felt his face grow red as his father continued the verbal tirade that he was giving him. They had been told off once, and Brandon knew that his father did not like giving punishments for the same mistake, especially when it was done purposefully. He had told them it was not to happen again and the two hadn't even listened to his words for a _day_! "Ellena is ..." his words trailed, "she is delicate and," he wasn't sure how to say his daughter was impressionable, but she was and as of late, Brandon was not having a good effect on her.

"I can't help my feelings father," Brandon blurted. He was never one to go down without a fight, even if it was against his own father.

"She is your _sister._ I raised you to be the next Warden of Winterfell Brandon, and I will continue to do so. If that means sending Ellena to Oldtown for her training as a Septa or finding her a suitable marriage, then I will do it. This is treason and if it were to go any further you would leave me no choice but to do so," Rickard told his son, turning back to the door.

Rickard felt his actions were justified; they could not be left alone to continue whatever it was they started. He wanted to tell Brandon it was revolting and had caused bile to form at his throat, but he was never one to cuss unnecessarily. His instructions were laid out, and that was that.

"You will have her sent away or sold off to some ... fourth son or _baker,_ " Brandon couldn't imagine Winterfell without Ellena. He couldn't imagine coming home from Barrowton to not have her here. His feelings were premature, but they were real, and he would acknowledge them.

Rickard ignored his words and opened the door. "Your horse is being readied, break your fast and I shall see you out."

...

The two younger Starks and younger Snow were perplexed as to why Brandon was leaving so soon, each hugging him goodbye as he returned to ward for the Dustin's. This would probably be the last they saw of him for a while as his wardship would end with his final return. Though it was custom for great and small Houses alike to exchange sons and daughters for training and aid, it was still bittersweet.

"Bring me back a sword this time. You promised before and you did not bring one back," Lyanna complained to Brandon, hugging with one arm and ruffling his neatly brushed hair with the other.

Brandon slapped her hand away, "you wouldn't be able to carry it let alone swing it," he jested, moving onto Benjen. "But for you, I'll bring back one as big as Ice." Brandon smiled, mentioning their father's great sword, the very same one that would one day pass down to Brandon and then his sons after. Benjen cried with joy, jumping up and down at his words.

"Bye Brandon," Ellena smiled stiffly, hugging him for what she believed to be the last time in a long time. After Rickard had gone to Brandon, he had marched straight to Ellena's room – asking if she'd prefer Septa or wife. She had chosen neither, telling her father she was too young, and he was being hasty for naught. Rickard had huffed and puffed, promising to return to the conversation.

"I will see you soon," Brandon whispered to her, avoiding his father's watchful gaze from next to Ellena. He wanted to feel her lips just once more but knew that his father would not be happy at their public display of affection, nor would anyone else. Instead, he kissed her cheek, something that seemed sweet enough. "I will write to you."

Ellena's hand lingered on his own and she nodded, "as I write to Ned every moon, I will write back to you."

Rickard bit the inside of his cheek, _the gull of those two._ He took Brandon's hands from her own and led him to his horse. He didn't know what they had whispered to each other, nor did her care. "Send my regards to Lord Dustin," Brandon nodded, as Rickard patted his eldest on his back. "And as always, remember, you are a Stark-,"

"And a Stark you forever shall be," Brandon's words copied those of Rickard's, they had been the first words he had told him when he was sent off to Barrowton.

"So, make me and your name proud. No fighting, no _whoring._ "

Brandon laughed, "that one's new."

"Yes well, you can never be too careful," Rickard nodded, watching as Brandon mounted his horse. The horse moved from here to there impatiently. He wanted to say something else, but he was not raised to be a doting father – and though he did not show it – he was extremely annoyed at both Brandon and Ellena. Annoyed, revolted and aware. It was not lost on him that Ellena might have shown traits of loving one's own, but he had not expected it from Brandon.

Rickard patted the horse on its hind, sending it running through the open gates.

Lyanna and Benjen left their spots, off to do whatever it was they did when they weren't cornered by their Septa or Maester. Ellena watched longingly as Brandon's figure faded into a small speck, the large gates of Winterfell lurching to a close as he vanished.

She did not know that liking someone meant thinking of them during the days and dreaming of them at night, but that was precisely what she was doing.

Rickard had strongly suggested to Lord Dustin that Brandon was not to return to Winterfell until his full wardship had been completed when he was eight and ten. Lord Dustin heeded his words, disallowing his ward from leaving Barrowton from that moment on.

For the next two years, the letters Ellena and Brandon had promised to exchange grew longer, and as they both grew, they became more passionate. Rickard had taken back his words of turning his daughter into a Septa, regarding Maester Walys' words to having her bastardly status legitimised when the time came to marry her.

" _She is still young my lord, don't you think sending her to Oldtown at the height of her youth is ... a little ... cold-hearted?" Maester Walys had said, sticking up for the young girl. She was no harm around the household, and Rickard was the one who had insisted she live with them, so why not allow her home at least for a few more years until she made her own choice to make something of herself. If she did not, then she could be married. "Why not legitimise her?"_

_It would make her happy, that much Rickard knew. And her marriage prospects would be improved if he had. "I will, when the time is right," Rickard nodded in response, coming to understand the Maestars' words._

She had been happy at the news, hugging her father and kissing his cheeks a hundred times over. Though she would not gain the name Stark, she'd be recognised by her father and the realm as one of his own. Now there was the small matter of requesting an audience with King Aerys to have the appeal made.

When Brandon was almost returning home at the eve of his eight and ten name day and Ellena five and ten in the year 279 AC, he had written to her telling her of taking Lady Barbrey Ryswell's maidenhood and how the girl had grown even more infatuated with him that he couldn't find a moment alone most days. He had also proclaimed a bloody sword was a sight to behold. Ellena had thrown the letter into the fires of her room before she even finished it. Growing jealous his changed affections. In Brandon's defence, Barbrey had been infatuated with him since he had met her – having taken her maidenhood when he was six and ten, he was only telling Ellena now but as his leaving date neared, Barbrey seemed to follow him around like a child would their mother.

He wrote to her once more in the same moon, wondering why she hadn't responded and assured her that she had no reason to be envious.

_Do not be jealous Ellena. Barbrey is infatuated with me and I wanted to put the poor girl's pain at ease. She speaks of wanting to be a Stark, wanting to become the Lady of Winterfell ... my lady. I was stupid enough to ask father to consider it once, but that was before I knew I wanted you most. Besides, even if I do marry Catelyn Tully, there will only be one woman for me. Catelyn might be my wife, but you will forever be my lady. I will take yours if that is what you desire when I come home. It is soon now. Are you as excited as I am? We will spend all day and night together, and there is not one thing father can do to keep us apart._

And her heart eased, sleeping in a wonderland after she had read those words.

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again Sniperbro1998 ... they both need to be more secretive Rickard knows everything :P
> 
> I'm testing out longer chapters, they're hell to edit but I can fit in so much more!
> 
> Enjoy
> 
> xx


	5. Chapter 5

**279 AC**

**Arrangements**

Rickard had plans to announce his daughter's official betrothal to Robert Baratheon, the soon to be Lord Paramount. Once Robert grew comfortable in his role, and once Lyanna had grown from being three and ten to being six and ten, Rickard was more than happy to see her wed, that would be in 283 AC. He also wanted to celebrate the year that his second youngest son turned six and ten, almost a man full grown and the return of Winterfell's heir from his wardship in Barrowton with the Dustin's.

Ned, who was riding home from the Vale, was known to be shy and quiet, never liking too much attention. But Rickard knew that he would appreciate the efforts gone into the feast. It wasn't just Ned's name day celebration; it was the celebration of the Stark's coming together at last. After years of being separated from his family, he too was almost close to finishing his wardship in the Vale with Lord Arryn and would be home to wed a girl of his choosing.

It seemed the only child not receiving a special moment during the feast would be Benjen. As Rickard sought to find a match for Ellena that day, presenting her as his daughter – though not yet fully legitimised.

 _Mormont_... Rickard thought to himself. How would Ellena fare in Bear Island? The island that lay in the Bay of Ice, had a number of bears and was growingly improvised. Rickard thought on it. The heir to the island, Jorah Mormont, had a first wife who had died or so Rickard had heard. Most recently at that. Granted he was ten years older than Ellena and as the heir had every right to reject the proposal. Rickard made a note to discuss it with Jeor Mormont, the father of Jorah.

It would be suitable had Ellena married to a vassal house, as that would keep her close enough to Rickard and from preying eyes of those in the South.

He pondered for another little while, the Master of Deepwood Motte – Galbart Glover. The Glover's were his people and resided in the North. He was unwed as of yet and from what Rickard had heard he was a loyal and good man. Deepwood Motte was also closer to Winterfell, unlike Bear Island, which required a ship to bring one to land. Mormont, Glover, who else was there to consider? It wasn't as if he hadn't planned the guests that would be arriving, no he wanted Ellena to choose and her match to choose her in turn, but also a fatherly nudge would not hurt anyone.

Maester Walys had suggested that they branched out from the North, as they had done so for Brandon and Lyanna. "There are Benjen and Eddard to continue a Northern hold here. And the houses are under your protection, they are your vassals. What use marrying your children to them if they are already loyal to you my lord?" Walys reminded him, standing opposite of Rickard's desk.

That is where they were now, discussing the matter of Ellena's match and how they would go about marrying her off.

"Benjen wishes to become a Knight, a sworn brother. He is too young now but when he is ready, he speaks of wanting to take the Black of the Watch or the White of the Kingsguard – whichever he chooses will honour me," Rickard sighed, patting his stomach. "I just need to have her legitimised so that the question of her birthright is not brought up. She will have a bride price, not as large as Lyanna's but she is mine to call daughter, so I owe her that much."

Walys huffed, his obesity getting the best of him. He was rather comfortable for a Maester, so he rummaged through Rickard's maps and lists of families. "I know you are thinking Mormont or Glover-,"

"Or Bolton, should he have her," Rickard added, Walys gave him a wary glance, "I do not believe fisher wives tales Maester." He said, noting the Maester had been judgemental of the Lord of the Dreadfort, Roose Bolton's reputation. "He has no heir and his wife has since passed trying to give him one. His last died in the cradle, Ellena can be a breath of fresh air for him."

Walys ignored his words, the lists, that were regularly updated by the Maester himself, were scrambled. He found the two he was looking for. "Ah see," he looked closely, "The Reach ... hmm ... the brother of Lord Luthor Tyrell, Moryn Tyrell ... a ... the Lord Commander of the City Watch of Oldtown, _respectable,_ has a son – second son – unmarried, Leo Tyrell."

"Leo Tyrell," Rickard repeated, looking at his Maester in thought. "A Tyrell." Sure, the Tyrell's were rich and had grain that would provide the North should they fall short. "No, I'd rather marry Ned to a Tyrell. A true Tyrell and not the son of the Lord's brother. There is no security in that." Besides, the Reach was far too far away for Rickard's liking.

"But my lord, she will be legitimised, and a connection is a connection."

"Who else is there?" Rickard asked him.

Walys sighed, unsure if anyone he suggested would be good enough for Rickard. "And the next, I was thinking ... yes, I remember writing him down ... where is he?" Walys looked down the list titled, _Riverlands_ , with the Reach's list still in hand in, did a small skip as he found it. "Lord Darry has a son, three actually, all unmarried," he noticed Rickard's impatient gaze and stuttered. "An Otto Darry the first, Edmund the second and Harold the third.

Rickard played with his hands, it was the perfect time to arrange a marriage for Ellena now, so he had to be quick whilst she was young and still had her innocence about her. She'd be six and ten in the coming year, so a betrothal now would suit very well. A raven to both houses. And if they considered her, they would travel to whoever agreed and offered the best proposal. The Northern lords would be offered the same chance, bar the raven as he would see them soon anyway. "Write to them both," Walys nodded, fixing the mess he had made with the papers. As he made to leave, Rickard called him. "Maester, have a small tapestry of Ellena's face made. We will send them each one, as a way to show them the beauty she offers."

"Yes, my lord-,"

"She is five and ten," Rickard stood from his seat, growing excited and pleased for his bastard daughter – he hadn't thought she'd have a life outside of Septa or maid – thank the gods for Maester Walys. "She is black of hair and lilac of eyes. Her mother was no whore, has had her blood, tell them I make sure she has not fallen privy to young love – she is innocent and soft." Walys scrambled to make note of what Rickard was saying, "thin but has hips growing, she can sing a pretty tune, writes well, reads well, has been educated a lady's education. Oh, and tell them she can sew as well. Very well at that," Rickard looked down at the tunic she had made him not too long ago. It was thin as the girls weren't given good material to practice on, but Rickard wanted to show her he was pleased with her improvements.

"Yes, my lord," Walys said, a freshly written scroll in hand before he left the room he hesitated. "Will that be all my lord?"

Rickard thought for a moment, pursing his lips. "Yes, that will be all. We will let her beauty speak for itself when they agree to meet her. Make her seem irresistible Maester. Like her bastardly has no matter, understood?"

The Maester nodded, finally leaving the room. Rickard sat back down, unable to focus on his work anymore. This was very good, very good indeed.

...

Ellena stared intently at the gates of Winterfell from her seat on a stool. She was currently sat by the household's washer, Milly, who was singing a sweet tune as she wrung a dress shirt dry. Something about summer birds and winter flowers. Ellena couldn't focus on it as she was trying to perfect her stitching skills; having grown to love sewing and dressmaking.

She couldn't focus on that either, as she was waiting for both Ned and Brandon's arrivals for the feast. She felt giddy knowing this time, Brandon would come home, and he would stay home.

Many vassal houses of the Starks had arrived, she noticed some house banners, Mormont, Umber, Hornwood; the newest one to arrive, House Manderly. The richest of all their vassal houses, through their fish, grain and overseas trade. Ellena wondered what it would be like gloating that one was richer than all of the North.

She was growing tired of introductions, having to stand from her seat every moment or so to greet each arriving house, and wanted the next horse to trot through the gates to be Brandon's or Ned's.

Ned, who she had also been in close communication with, not as close as Brandon, had written to her just before he left the Vale of Arryn writing;

_I cannot wait to leave the Vale and return home to Winterfell, I have missed the snow, the rain, the cold and howls of wolves at night. I have missed my father and all my brothers and sisters._

She had smiled at his words, knowing that a raven back would be futile as Ned would already be on his way.

Ellena sat in front of the gates for what felt like hours, Milly having returned from her other household duties to bring down the dry dress shirts.

"They'll be 'ere soon," the maid called to Ellena, smiling at the girl's impatience.

"Aye, soon is not soon enough," Ellena responded, standing from the stool and stretching. Her backside had grown numb from the sitting and so she thought a walk would help in relaxing her muscles. The gates called for her to pass them.

 _I'll only be a short while._ Ellena thought to herself. Lyanna did it all the time since she was two and ten and had been gifted a horse.

She bit her bottom lip, never having left the gates without her father, siblings or someone else. All she'd do is walk around, and then she'd come right back.

Ellena put down her embroidery hoop and needle on the stool she had been sat at, marched up to the East Gates of Winterfell and walked right out. She shut her eyes, there was no loud booming cry of Rickard's voice, no screams of a lost bastard, just chatter. There was not a soul in sight, apart from the guards who seemed far too interested in drinking ale, who had seen her leave as she passed the gates.

No one had questioned her, leaving Ellena to her own devices. She gathered her dress and jumped over a puddle that stood in her way. She was acting as children did, but she did not mind it one bit.

She had passed Wintertown, taking the Kingsroad, and nodded to those with open stalls. It was a perfect time for them to be open with many household servants milling around and looking for pelts, livestock and workers for their lords. Some had called her to look at their products, but she was not interested in leather or meat or potatoes, she just wanted to feel what it meant to venture out alone. A luxury Lyanna had been afforded, one she knew would be given to all but her. Her father had thought her a delicate egg not to be broken by the words of those outside the walls of Winterfell – but not one soul had said an offensive phrase to the lilac-eyed bastard.

Ellena came to a stop once she had reached the trail that led into thick woods, knowing better than to pass by it. She had a second to rethink, a little look wouldn't hurt. Besides this is where the Kingsroad was leading here, and the Kingsroad was safe. She walked ahead, feeling at peace by the forest's quiet splendour. The same forest that held beasts of beauty and danger alike. Lost in her own world, she had not noticed the man approaching her. His footsteps were like, leaving not a trace of his being behind.

Ellena's throat hitched as her body made contact with his pale eyes that seemed to glare down at her.

"What is a pretty little thing like you doing out here, _alone_?"

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oop dumby hope she gets kidnapped smh (why am I saying this like I'm not the writer)


	6. Chapter 6

**279 AC**

**A Boy**

"What is a pretty little thing like you doing out here, alone?" The smooth voice of the man stood in front of her asked.

Ellena blinked, she was sure it was Roose Bolton, the Lord of the Dreadfort, that was looking down at her. She hoped he remembered her from past feasts and jousts that her father had held, even if their introductions were fleeting.

Roose knew her all too well, having taken a liking to the young girl when he had seen her as a woman grown at a tourney that Rickard had hosted not too long ago. "Would your lord father be pleased to know you were here alone?"

Ellena let out a breath of air, glad to know she would not have to remind, or rather plead to him, of her father's name. Especially not with all the stories that Lyanna and Ellena had found out from the women of Winterfell's household – how Roose would take to servants and maids, setting his late lady wife aside for the warmth of an unknown woman. "I only came for fresh air, my lord," Ellena responded, moving away as Roose neared her.

"You need not fear me," Roose said, his voice never wavering, not raising nor falling. "I will escort you back, a young woman of your beauty should not be leaving her home alone." He offered Ellena his hand, and she took it.

She looked around, "my lord – your horse?" Had he walked from the Dreadfort to Winterfell? That seemed a little extreme even for a Bolton. The very same house known to have a dead man as their sigil.

"She is already in the stables of Winterfell, comfortable no doubt," Roose responded, leading them from the woods and down the Kingsroad back to Winterfell.

She had not seen the Bolton banners nor Bolton men amongst the other houses when she had left, Ellena questioned how he had seen her leave or even found her. He tapped her hand rhythmically and Ellena's eyes moved to their joined hands. She knew better than to question him, so walked in silence. When they were in eyesight of the castle, Ellena noticed the banners of Arryn flying high and a procession making their way into the castle. She wanted to free her hand from Roose's, but his grip tightened as he felt her try to do so. The pair passed the narrow road of Wintertown, many villagers and passers sending them suspicious looks, and finally were at the gates.

_Let go you maniac!_ Ellena had wanted to shout but held her tongue as Roose led them back into the castle. He nodded to the newly arrived and to Ellena's family who had stood in a row to greet Ned as if he were making a show of having her beside him. Rickard gave her a disapproving look, his grey eyes telling her he had seen her walk through the gates with Roose.

"Thank you, my lord," Ellena smiled stiffly, shaking her hand free from Roose's cold and pale ones.

Before the excitement overtook her and before she got a chance to search the disbanding party for Ned, Roose gently took her hand back, this time gripping it tightly. "I hope you will dance with me at the feast."

"Of course, now if you don't mind, I must go greet my brother," she took her hand away forcefully, her pleasant words not doing enough to hide her discomfort.

"What was that about?" A foreign voice sounded behind her. It was deep and sounded identical to Rickard's.

Ellena spun around, looking at the grown man in front of her. _Ned._ He was much taller now, with hair that reached his neck and stature that showed his age. He wore a grey tunic with a dark coat to match, much different to the thick brown breeches and shirt he had left in. Ellena threw her hands around his neck, squealing as she did so. "Ned!"

Her quiet brother let out a small chuckle, patting her back. "I missed you too." He noted how much Ellena had grown, resembling Rickard most barely. He had greeted his sister, Lyanna and brother, Benjen just before making his way to Ellena. Their father had turned away from him for a brief moment to welcome his escort to Winterfell. Ellena noticed Rickard behind Ned waiting to greet his son and turned Ned around. "Father."

Rickard nodded back to him; he had not changed in the slightest. "I hope you didn't get into too many fights?" He queered, taking Ned's head in his hand and kissing it. Rickard had heard nothing but praise from Lord Jon Arryn about his son but knew Ned would be proud telling him all he had gotten up to himself.

"No, but when I did, I won them all," Ned boasted, remembering his father's words when he had first left Winterfell. He was never one to gloat but believed he had done his father and house proud at the Vale, training with seasoned Knights and beating some as of recently.

Rickard let out a hearty laugh, ruffling his hair, "aye? Good lad."

It seemed her wishes were granted, as the Dustin and Ryswell parties had arrived as soon as the Arryn's were escorted to their designated places. Ellena who had been chattering away with Benjen, Lyanna and Ned, waited impatiently, craning her neck to see where Brandon was. He rode through the gates atop a dark brown horse, he had gotten taller. If that were even possible. Next to him rode a fiery-haired man, Ellena assumed that was William Dustin, the one that their father had said was a bad influence on Brandon.

As the bastard, Ellena had been stood at the end of the line for greetings, now even further that Ned had been added to the mix. Brandon unmounted his horse, handing the reins to a stable boy and making his way over to his father. Behind him followed Dustin's and Ryswell's bowing to Rickard and shaking the hands of the children as they went along.

She felt her knees go weak and legs become wobbly as Brandon's body stood in front of her. He pulled her into a hug gruffly, and they both let out sighs.

"Gods, you look beautiful," Brandon whispered to her, kissing her cheek as they parted.

Ellena noticed his wear; breeches, a tunic, a woollen jacket, a belt with a sword at the side and as always, a coat. The only thing that had truly changed about him was his size, having grown taller and wider. His hands were the size of her face, and Ellena felt herself grow weak at the thought. It most certainly was the wolfs-blood that had aged him so, the blood that their father had appointed to Lyanna and Brandon.

"It's good to see you in flesh," Ellena smiled, patting his shoulders and taking her hands away from his body awkwardly.

Ned, who had been speaking to William, looked down the line to see who was holding it up. _What on..._

Brandon placed a kiss on her forehead before moving away to allow Lord Dustin the chance to greet her. Ellena smiled, bowed and gave those who took her hand the usual pleasantries, _how was your trip, we are glad to see you safe, I hear the town is well._

"What was that?" William asked Brandon once he had finished his greetings.

"My sister whom I missed greatly," Brandon shrugged back, wanting to make his peer feel as if the question was outlandish. William nodded back slowly in response.

The slim figure of Barbrey Ryswell came to Ellena, smiling at the younger girl. "Hello, Lady Snow," Barbrey said, her words cold and sharp. Ellena felt unworthy standing in front of the tall girl. Her hair was twisted into a simple Southern-style, unlike her own, and her dress favoured her body brilliantly.

Ellena was the only one wearing a dress in her family, Lyanna having chosen to wear her usual leather breeches and shirt, layered with a tunic and golden belt. It was a surprise Rickard hadn't forced Lyanna into one, but it seemed he had given up. Everyone knew her as a wild-wolf anyway and she was young still.

"Lady Ryswell," Ellena smiled back, she had been taught by her Septa to never engage in hostile words with other ladies, so that exactly what she was to do. "How did your journey fare?"

"Fine, thank you," they were the last two left to greet each other, so the line had now dispersed. Barbrey looked behind Ellena, watching as Brandon played around with his natural siblings. "Brandon has told me much about you."

"Good things I hope," Ellena joked, wanting to leave the conversation with Barbrey. _What is it with unwanted words today?_ She thought to herself, waiting on the Ryswell girl's response.

Barbrey cocked her head to the side, "some were." She smiled at Ellena once more, the same stiff smile as before, and moved away.

...

The Great Hall had been transformed to hold a great feast, with the houses in attendance having their banners proudly hung high around the room as well as those of high rank being seated at the lords' table. Ellena enjoyed the sight, the hundreds of feasting lords and ladies, as well as their households, dressed in fine wear and dining to their heart's contents. The room was loud with chatter and music, the brightly lit room smelled of all sorts of meats; veal, chicken, beef, rabbit and ham. Ellena recalled how Rickard and Benjen had gone hunting a sennight before the feast, leaving a whining Lyanna behind to complain to her sister.

They hadn't had a feast in so long, but she couldn't eat all the food in front of her, especially not have eating more lemon cakes than her stomach could take.

Brandon, who had been sat next to her, had kept one hand on her thigh for the duration of the night. He was talking with his father, William and Lord Dustin about a lesson on castle minding he had learnt. Ellena had tried to ignore it, laughing along with Ned as Lyanna tried to throw a cut of veal at Benjen.

"What of Robert?" Lyanna asked Ned they all knew that their father planned on making the betrothal official that night, as well as toasting to Ned's health, and Lyanna wanted to know all about the boy she was promised to.

"Ooo, wanting to know about your betrothed. This is very unlike you Lyanna," Ellena teased. Lyanna stuck her tongue out, threatening her with the same punishment that Benjen had received.

Ned grimaced, unsure of how to tell her the truth without making Robert look like an insatiable sex-crazed man. "He is ..."

"He is ...?" Lyanna asked him, raising one brow.

"He is a good man, and I'm sure you'll like him when you meet him," Ned responded. That was good enough for Lyanna, she nodded back to Ned and smiled to herself. At least he had not said anything outrageous.

As the night went along, the music began to grow louder, and tables were pushed together to make space for a bigger dancing area. Benjen stood from his seat, mouth full of food, and threw a grape towards Ned to try and take his attention from talking with Lyanna.

"Oi!" Rickard shouted over the loud musicians and their instruments, "those are expensive Benjen." Benjen huffed, stuffing one into his already full mouth and leaving the table.

Ellena had finally mustered the courage to pull Brandon from his many conversations, he was always one to be energetic in talking, but it surprised Ellena that he wasn't showing her any notice. "How did Barrowton treat you Brandon?" she asked him, craning her neck to get his attention with her face.

Brandon turned his head around, patting her thigh, his hand hadn't moved as of yet. "It treats me well, and Winterfell?" Brandon said, pulling a plate from beside him and taking as much food as he saw fit.

He had just eaten! He poured a cup of ale, swinging back in one gulp, he poured another.

Ellena watched him with slightly wide eyes, "are they feeding you?" she asked him, nudging Brandon playfully. Brandon laughed, chewing his food and wiping his lips. "Winterfell is well. I have heard from Ned all his stories of the Vale and the Moon Door – has he told them to you yet?"

"It sounds gruesome," Brandon said, shivering at the thought of falling from such heights.

"And I am lucky father went back on his words of turning me to a Septa." He had already known that though, they had sent letters to each other frequently enough to know exactly what the other was up to. Well ... Brandon might've kept out certain details here and there.

Their conversation was cut short by Roose, who had stepped up from his seat and was now stood behind them. Brandon subtly took his hand from Ellena's thigh and placed it on his own, not wanting the lord to grow suspicious and have reason to call any attention to them.

"Ellena," Roose called, holding his hand out for her. For a man who was invited to his sworn lords' home to feast and drink, Roose seemed sober. Though he was never known to drink ale, Ellena was sure he'd have at least tried the spiced wine on offer. She had had a little bit of it, and it tasted foreign, far too exotic for Winterfell. "I remember a dance being promised earlier."

She nodded her head, standing from her seat and taking Roose's hand. She had promised to dance with him and was looking forward to dancing, either way, this would be her first feast as a woman grown. Perhaps this would show Brandon to ask her for a dance – even if they were siblings – and it would not look that odd.

Rickard watched as his bastard daughter was escorted by Roose onto the dancing area and as he gripped her waist tightly. "Brandon," the inebriated father whispered to his son. "Have they taken a liking to each other?"

Brandon felt his face pale, no amount of ale could make him jest his father's question off. He shrugged, turning to the dancing couple. Ellena let out a squeal as Roose moved her about roughly, and Lyanna snorted watching her sister being flung about. "I don't know," Brandon responded.

"Oh Ned, go save our sister," Lyanna pouted, not wanting Ellena to be in the hands of a Bolton any longer

"You will do no such thing," Rickard told his standing son, his mind turning as he saw a small smile creep on Roose's face. Brandon turned away from the dancing couple and back to the table, his mood souring considerably.

"That is a beautiful dress," Roose told Ellena, she placed her hand on his shoulder to brace herself from the turning and twisting.

"Thank you," she puffed, feeling herself grow hot at the fast-paced dance. It wasn't such a good idea to dance after she had just eaten.

"Did you make it yourself?" Roose asked, trying to make little small talk. The dress was different from the one she had worn earlier and looked confused in style.

Neither Northern nor Southern. Ellena had copied it from a dress she had seen in Lyanna's room but had changed it ever so slightly to show her growing cleavage vaguely. She was experimenting with new designs and patterns, with no motherly figure outside of her Septa to scold her of indecency Ellena took it upon herself to do as she pleased. "I did, is it that badly made?"

Roose chuckled, his pale eyes wandering down her body as he did so. "No, it is just _different._ " She was glad when the musicians ended their song and the two parted to clap and cheer for them. Her fears of Roose, even if they had just come from the words of maids and gossips, still made her question his sanity. Roose escorted her back to her seat, thanking her for the dance and moving away.

"Was he to your liking?" Brandon muttered beside her, tapping his empty ale cup on the table bitterly and clenching his jaw. He hadn't even looked to her as he spoke.

Ellena frowned at his words but couldn't respond as behind her, the heir to Bear Island, Jorah Mormont stood with a smile on his face.

"I will not end the night without a dance, my lady. I promise to be much more gentle than Lord Bolton," Jorah laughed, his eyes twinkled and cheeks were flushed red from drink and heat.

She grinned at the young lord, "well then man up and do something about it," Ellena whispered to Brandon before standing back up and taking Jorah's hand. There was no need for his harsh words and if he had wanted to speak with her than he would have paid more attention to her than _William Dustin_. "Aye I hope you will be gentle," she said, and Jorah chuckled.

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listening to The 1975 on repeat as I write -Narcissist by No Rome ft The 1975 influenced this chapter.


	7. Chapter 7

** 279 AC **

** Am I? **

Rickard had been compelled to reintroduce Ellena, as a grown woman now, to his vassal lords. Taking her from table to table, Cassel, Glover, Karstark, Umber, Flint – she lost count once they reach the Hornwood brother's, smiling politely. Ellena knew all too well what her father was up to, he had not exactly been subtle in his showcasing of her.

They stopped to speak with the Knight and heir to White Harbour, Ser Wendel Manderly. Ellena was not particularly attracted to the tall man but did her role to show her father she'd comply. Her mind slowly brought forward thoughts of being hauled up in a Keep during the winter and Northern cold, as she had done so all her life, and having to ask her husband for permission to do anything. There would be no change to her circumstance, she would just be passed from father to husband, alone and away from her family.

There was roaring from a table a few strides away from them and Ellena pulled herself from the conversation with Ser Wendel, Brandon had his hand on Barbrey's behind and had slapped her playfully as she walked away from him. Rickard pursed his lips, annoyed at his son's drunken behaviour and left Ellena to speak with Wendel.

"Your brother is a wild one," Wendel laughed moving over the bench to give Ellena space to sit. Ellena sat down reluctantly, watching Rickard as he scolded Brandon for his behaviour. "Your father tells me you are to be legitimised."

"Yes, as soon as the King finds time for it of course," Ellena smiled politely.

Wendel laughed, "the King is busy finding a wife for his own son," he raised one brow. Ellena, he was speaking of the obvious fact that Rickard had intended on them seeing if they liked each other for marriage.

"Have they not yet found a woman for him?" Ellena asked, the last she had heard of the royal family – Lyanna's good father to be, Steffon Baratheon, had journeyed to the Free Cities to find a wife of Valyrian blood for the Prince. Granted

"No," Wendel shook his head, "it's said no one is good enough for him."

"Well, it's not like he'll be getting any younger," Ellena pointed out, earning a chuckle from Wendel.

They got along well enough, their conversation pleasant but Wendel was not one for flirting and Ellena was not one to beg a man to pay her compliments – even if she fed off of them from time to time.

"I am not one for pretty words or have a pretty face to attract you by my lady," Wendel had told her sometime in their conversation sensing her tone faltering as she grew bored. Ellena did not know how to respond and simply nodded her head, pursing her lips as Wendel went on to describe how White Harbour, the only city in the North, had prospered in the last few years.

As they talked the musicians around the room stopped their sweet songs and the talk quietened. Rickard ushered his children back to the high table, to which Ellena bowed once to Wendel and walked away, sitting herself at her seat. Ned sat next to her, taking the place Brandon had occupied, Lyanna on her other side, Brandon next to their father and Benjen by Brandon's side.

"My lords," Rickard's voice boomed in the quiet room, there was a chorus of cheers and applause.

 _He has not even said anything,_ Ellena thought to herself, rolling her eyes at the excitable men.

"My ladies," Rickard lowered his head, and Ellena joined in to clap for him. "Thank you for joining my family and I during this very happy time. My son Brandon is now a man grown and has come back to live with us at Winterfell. Thank you, my Lord Dustin, for his wardship, I'm sure he gave you much trouble," he laughed as Lord Dustin held his hand up in innocence, remembering the times Brandon and his son had caused him sleepless nights. "My second son, Eddard, Ned, has come from the Vale to visit us – and he has grown. You don't have to hide your daughters and nieces just yet, he's quite shy," Rickard roared in laughter, the room erupting at the jab. Ned turned beet red and Ellena patted his back in a comforting manner, trying to stifle her own laughter. "My third will be a Knight one day, protecting the realm for all his days," Benjen puffed his chest proudly at his father's acknowledgement. "My daughters, well, Ellena is yet to be betrothed," she didn't know if that was a threat or a hint, "and of course."

There was the humming of footsteps in the room, with the yellow and black Baratheon banners being brought in from the doors and placed down by the lords' table.

"Though they cannot join us, they are here in spirit," Rickard mentioned for Lyanna to stand up, and she did, half-heartedly. "My youngest daughter, Lyanna, is hereby _officially_ betrothed to the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, Lord of Storms End, Lord Robert Baratheon," there was cheering and chanting in the room.

Lyanna was pushed around by her brothers as their father retreated from the table to mingle once more and she brushed them all off, not wanting to think of the idea of marriage just yet.

Ellena leant her elbows on the table, laughing as Lyanna finally got her vengeance on Benjen in their father's absence and spilt a cup of ale on his breeches – making the boy look as if he had wet himself.

"Lyanna!" Benjen cried out, standing from the bench and shoving his sister as he did so.

"Should've kept your mouth shut, I'll ring your head in next time," Lyanna snickered, giving Benjen a pointed look as he left the Great Hall to change.

"That was cruel," Ellena pouted, patting her sister's hair.

Lyanna lent her head closer to Ellena, "he deserved it," she sighed enjoying the feel of foreign hands on her head. Something about it sent tingles all over her scalp and soothed her.

They both sat like that as the night continued on, uninterested in the brawling men or chittering women of the feast, wanting only to observe their Northern friends from afar. Lyanna had refused the young sons of lords who had come to ask her of dance, and Ellena had jested they were far too young for her.

The older Lord Umber staggered to the two girls and asked Ellena for a dance, but before she could even respond to the gruff voice of Brandon sounded from beside them. "Go back to your seat old man," Brandon laughed, leaning his elbows on the table and facing away from the table.

"A protective brother!" Lord Umber drunkenly exclaimed, holding his hands up in innocence and stepping away.

Lyanna laughed, picking her head up and following the older lord. "I shall dance with you, my lord." Lord Umber happily took her hand and led her to the dancing space, Lyanna was far too energetic for the man and eventually moved onto the tall son of Lord Flint, finding him a better partner.

Brandon sighed from beside Ellena, she had tried to ignore his presence, still unhappy with his earlier behaviour. He pouted, sensing her anger and placed his on her shoulder. The ale he had practically inhaled throughout the night had caused blood to rush around his body, helping him forget their earlier encounter. "Ellena," he muttered, having missed her far too much to control himself any longer.

Letters could only do so much for a man, and he had slowly begun to call out her name when he would visit the whores of Barrowton. Never around Barbrey though, she'd surely find a way to bring it back to Rickard and try to turn it into a way for Brandon to marry her.

Brandon wanted to damn all those in the Great Hall, push the food on the table aside and take her right there and then, but couldn't. Even with his famed wolfs-blood, he knew better. Firstly, they'd both be exiled, if they were lucky, for the sin of laying with one's sibling and secondly, Rickard would implode at the sight.

He called her once more, "Ellena."

"What?" Ellena eventually responded to his call, her voice sending all sorts of chills down his spine.

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter this week/today? Sorry I've been feeling so out of it recently. I gained 6 kgs during lockdown and now none of my clothes fit plus even my uNDERWEAR is rolling down my new stomach. I will say I will exercise and eat well to burn it off ... but idk man I'm very comfortable in this beeddd. even moved my bike into my room to try and get myself to move while watching shows nope lol now I just hit my shoulder on it when I go to sit on my bed smhddddd
> 
> anywho - hope you enjoyed, sorry for my rant. happy weekend!

**Author's Note:**

> I lied. I am back, but now with an edited version of the Emancipation of Rhaegar / Lust and Fire. They will be two completely different stories, and this time I'll try to be a lot more accurate with times and character behaviours.
> 
> I'd just like to include one final disclaimer - this is an AU and this is my story, not yours. I will not tolerate the type of bullying I received with Lust and Fire, which is why I deleted it in the first place. Imagine a 16-year-old trying her best to write and just starting out getting told her story is "stupid" by people who haven't even tried to write one.
> 
> So if you don't like it ... write your own and fuck off
> 
> xx


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